


Awake

by Iron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, The Mutineers, Thunderclash is in love, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: What would you say if I told you I wanted Megatron off of this ship?I’d ask how.Thunderclash relives the same moment over and over again.But not all brains respond to memory loops the same way.





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dorksidefiker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/gifts).



> For Dorksidefiker, an enabler in all things ThunderRod.

”Help me.” Getaway’s optics are bright over the rim of his cup, and Thunderclash can hear the smile in his voice. “Be apart of something great again, Thunderclash. I know that you’ve been alone here, and I know that you’ve been searching for something better, but you’re never going to get it with Megatron on the ship.” Thunderclash toys with his own drink.  


“You offer me something I want, desperately.” It is something gold and red, and the smell of it burns his nose. Swerve had made it for Rodimus, but Thunderclash couldn’t resist ordering it for himself. Gold dust swirls through it like an ionic cloud, and he turns it this way and that to watch the movement of it through the drink. ~~”What are you intending to do?”~~  


He looks at Getaway and shakes his helm. “No,” he tells him firmly. “No, I won’t be part of this. This is _mutiny_ , Getaway, mutiny for a decision we had no choice in.”  


“He had a choice!” He points towards the door. Rodimus has taken a rare night away from Swerve’s, and Thunderclash is suddenly very glad for that. There is no reason for the captain to be near a mech who would betray him, even over Megatron. Even after everything.  


“Do you think he’d suffer the mech who _shot him in the chest and left him to die_ if it weren’t for a good reason?” Anger burbles and rises in his chest; how dare Getaway try to blame Rodimus? How could he know what it’s like to deny Optimus Prime’s command?  


Getaway snorts. “You think he’s any good for us?”  


“Would _you_ have done any differently?”  


“I-”  


_~~Does Megatron deserve a second chance?~~_  


On the bridge, Rodimus’ face stares out at them, furious blue optics and the loveliest sneer of rage.  


“What is the meaning of this? You involved a third party?” The words feel familiar-unfamiliar in his mouth. The order is wrong, it’s _wrong_ , but the meaning rolls around in his helm like a stone rubbed smooth.  


He thinks of a gun made from Rodimus’ frame and this time it does not surprise him, it’s so _petty_ , it should. But it doesn’t. He stares at Getaway and then looks at the crew and -  


~~_This isn’t right, what is happening? Have I done this before?_~~  


“-What’s going on, Getaway?”  


“It’s fake.” He says it easily, like tumbling out like smoothed stones, “It’s fake news.”  


Other mechs in the room are talking. Yelling, really, all around him, a deluge of anger and disbelief. Hurt. Their friends are _dead_ and they’re the ones who sent them off to die. Fou million years of war and it’s friendly fire that kills them.  


It’s unfair. It’s _their fault_.  


~~_What would you do if someone staged a coup? I would report them. Wouldn’t I? I would, I’m loyal, I love -_ ~~

The shaft of the arrow is smooth and cool. He holds it between his fingers, twisting it as he looks at the map. The table carving is complete. He can hear the mechs around him speaking, over his head, to him, but he doesn’t care.  


All he can think about is the unfinished map, his straight, clean lines meshed with Rodimus’ smooth curves. There’s something enchanting about it, and he finds himself pressing his thumb against the shapes, over and over, feeling the shift between his writing and his captain’s.  


“ -Thunderclash? Thunderclash!”  


He jerks his helm up, looking at Getaway. “Yes?”  


“What does all of this mean?” He waves his hand at the table. “What do the clans _mean_?”  


~~_This didn’t happen before. Next is -_~~  


“Getaway?” His optics are drawn to Blaster, and he mouths to words along with him.  


“In a minute, I need to hear this.”  


“I’m picking up an S.O.S.”  


Getaway stares. Thunderclash watches him, the flicker of fear across his face, the sudden jolt of his frame. Something is wrong.  


He’s not expecting Blaster to tell him the Fraynians are calling for help. He’s expecting someone else. He’s grateful that it’s not them.  


He should have seen this earlier. He should have known before r-  


Before what?  


~~_What would you say if I told you I wanted Megatron off of this ship?  
_ ~~

~~__~~

~~__~~ __

_~~I’d ask how.  
~~_

“Help me,” Getaway urges.  


Thunderclash stands, and he trembles, and he can hear a thousand whispers in his helm. “No-”  
Light.  


A face.  


Matrix-blue optics and a look, like he wants him dead -  


He lifts a hand heavier than Cybertron and drops it on the back of Rodimus’ helm, dragging him down. Their mouths slot together like they were forged to, and he tastes like dust and processed energon and electricity, like mouth, slightly tacky.  


For a moment he doesn’t move away and he thinks, _Is any of this real? Primus, his mouth feels good_. Everything about him feels good. His chest against his, the smell of his polish, his hands on his cheeks, the thrum of his engine.  


It can’t be real.  


Nothing before this was.  


He drags his other hand from the small of his back to the bottom of Rodimus’ spoiler, feels the snarl against his mouth as fingers curl into claws and drag down his cheeks.  


And he doesn’t care.  


Rodimus pulls away and his optics are blazing. It’s real, it’s all real, _Rodimus isn’t dead_.  


But he drags him down for another kiss, just to make sure.  
When he’s kicked out of the medbay he’s still got the scratches on his cheeks, and everything feels good.  


Rodimus is _alive_.


End file.
